Love Conquers All Things
by theicemenace
Summary: A mission to Shakhtinsk, Kazakhstan goes very bad for the Black Widow and Captain America.


**A/N:**This is a companion piece to the three part Avengers story. The basic plotline was borrowed from lg with her permission. It explains about the mission that brings Clint back to work with the Avengers again.

_Tapadh leat_,

~Sandy

**Avengers**

**Love Conquers All Things**

Unable to lift her head, Natasha stared at the floor as it passed beneath her dragging feet. Chin length hair covered her face, strands of it sticking to her cheeks and forehead. The blood, sweat and saliva had come from her attempts at resisting the interrogation techniques used against her. The tears appeared when she'd finally given in and told them what they wanted though she had managed to stop herself from telling all.

Her fingers curled into her palms, the short nails digging into her flesh as she was gracelessly tossed into the cell with Steve again. She felt the comfort of her husband's arms as he picked her up and laid her on the bed. Unable to stop herself, she spoke so softly he had to lean close to hear. "Romanoff, Natasha Alaina. Rank: Senior Special Agent. Serial number: Tango-4798352."

The same man who had accompanied the guards each time they'd come to take her lingered. Her left hand came up to clutch at Steve's sleeve when the man chuckled nastily speaking in heavily accented English. "She is strong in both mind and body, but that will not last. I made her and I can dismantle the layers of her psyche one at a time until she _begs_ to tell me what I want to know. Then and only then will there be relief."

"_Why_ are you doing this?"

The anger in Steve's voice wasn't just for her, but for their situation, and she didn't blame him. No, Natasha blamed herself for accepting this mission when the unknown of who had been tailing her had still been hanging over their heads. _ Now we know._

He smiled and it was not a pleasant one. "Why, my dear Captain Rogers, because I _can_. Why else? And if she turns out to be stronger than even _I_ imagined, I will have to find…other means for getting what I want."

Natasha cracked her eyelids when Steve left her side, watching him grip the steel bars of their cage. His anger had to be apparent because her interrogator's smile fled and he took a hurried step back out of Steve's reach. "Then ask _me!_ I'll tell you what you want to know. Just stop hurting her."

"_You_ don't have what I am looking for. Only _she_ can give it to me."

Whatever was said after that faded away as she lost consciousness, but she did so knowing that the man she loved would take care of her while she slept.

Getting to his feet, Steve rushed at the man again, hands clenched into fists. "But what _is_ it?"

Shrugging, the man leaned against the far wall so Steve couldn't reach him. "I want to know how she broke her training."

"Don't you mean brainwashing?" Chuckling humorlessly, Steve walked to the sink. He tore off a piece of his T-shirt and soaked it in cold water. "That's easy. Friendship, respect, kindness, compassion, empathy, trust. Placing the needs of others ahead of yourself. Love." Sitting on the side of the bed, he gently washed away the dirt and filth on Natasha's face.

Their captor made a scoffing sound. "Natalia and the other subjects were not _programmed_ to feel those emotions. Only to simulate them for purposes of manipulation."

"I guess you don't know everything about how people think and feel. If you did you'd know that _love_ is the greatest power on Earth. It conquers all things."

"That's quite poetic considering you're in there and I'm out here."

"At least tell me who you are."

The man took his hands from his pants pockets and chanced coming closer to the cell. "When Natalia awakens, say this name. It will strike fear in her heart and mind. Ivan Petrovitch."

"I doubt that. She's not afraid of anything."

"She will be." He left, tossing those final words over his shoulder just before the door closed with a clang.

Steve glared in his direction as he continued to minister to Natasha's wounds. The purple bruises on her face stood out from her pale features making them look even worse. There was a design in the bruise on her left cheek that had to come from a ring. But the man who'd identified himself as Ivan Petrovitch had only been wearing a watch so he couldn't have been the one doing the beatings. There had to be someone else. From what Steve could tell, this man was too young to have been the one who had created the Black Widow.

Natasha groaned as she regained consciousness. Steve filled a dented metal cup with water, helped her to sit on the side of the bed and held the cup to her lips so she could drink. After a few sips, she pushed it away. "I told them."

"What?"

"About you. Not all of it, but some."

"Doesn't matter." His arm around her shoulders held her close to his side. "He told me his name. Ivan Petrovitch."

She laughed, a grating sound coming from deep in her throat. "That man is _not_ Petrovitch. He died a long time ago."

His eyebrows drawing together over his nose, Steve tried to get Natasha to lie down again, but she shook her head and pushed to her feet, wobbling until she found her balance. He wanted to go to her, but also understood her need to be strong without him. "How do you know?'

Going to the sink, she turned on the water and splashed handfuls over her face then used the tattered sleeves of her shirt to wipe her eyes, letting the drops dampen her clothing and the bare floor. "Because _I_ killed him."

~~O~~

Natasha didn't know what Steve would think of her admission that she'd killed Petrovitch, but couldn't bring herself to worry. He knew what she was and loved her anyway. Though she still wasn't certain that what _she_ felt for _him_ was love, it was close enough that she'd married him. Love was more complicated than just an emotion. It also embodied trust and respect, and sometimes they were more profound than love itself. She remembered hearing that we always see our worst selves, our most vulnerable selves. We need someone else to get close enough to tell us we're wrong, someone we trust. And for her that was the Avengers. Stark, Thor, Clint, Bruce and especially Steve. He had always accepted people for who they are inside and didn't make assumptions based on someone else's experience, preferring to make his own assessment.

Due to the nature of their work, they only wore their rings on downtime and their marriage was one of the things she hadn't told her interrogators about, but right now she didn't care. Steve was here and they were together though she wished with everything she had that he hadn't been caught up in this mess.

"Then who is he?"

"One of Petrovitch's protégés, an obsessed fan, a long lost son. Doesn't matter. We have to get out of here." Putting all emotion aside, Natasha forced herself to think about the path to and from the interrogation room. How many doors were there? Did other corridors branch off of it? In which direction did they go? How far underground were they? Was there a Red Room and why hadn't they taken her to it?

The possibilities swirled around in her brain making her dizzy. No, it had to be the concussion because now her stomach was heaving. With Steve's help, she was able to get her head over the toilet in time to keep from vomiting on the floor. He pulled back the sides of her hair, holding it with one hand while the other filled the metal cup with cold water. She rinsed her mouth, thanking him with a smile. He returned it and that's when she realized that what she felt for him really _was_ love.

For a man who fought as hard as he did, he was very gentle with her when she needed it, and that had been what had attracted her to him. That and the innocence he projected in spite of all the things he'd seen and done. And trust. They had a trust that had been forged in the shared dangers of the invasion, and that had turned to respect then to friendship and finally to love.

It pained her to say it, but Natasha knew the score. They both did. "There're too many guards for us to fight our way out. And these guys won't be taking any chances."

Steve stayed at her side letting her lead the way. He always let others be themselves. "I know. We'll just have to wait for rescue, and keep our eyes open for any opportunity to get a signal to the team."

Suddenly, she just couldn't hold herself upright any longer. She needed to sleep even knowing that it wouldn't be restful. That she wouldn't be invigorated when she awakened. Holding out a hand, she clutched at Steve when he helped her to the bed. Her eyes had closed and she was about to take refuge in sleep when she felt Steve lay down next to her and cuddle her close. _They_ were watching and would know that Steve and Natasha were more to each other than mere working partners, but she was done hiding her love for him from their captors. What could they possibly do to her that hadn't been done before she'd even hit puberty? Physical and mental enhancements, procedures and serums that took away the ability to ever have children of her own. More.

When they got home, she'd talk to Fury about changing her job description. She'd still go on missions, but only the most sensitive ones. And if Steve wanted to adopt, she'd give it serious consideration and not dismiss it out of hand.

Surrendering to sleep, Natasha drifted off with Steve softly stroking her hair. He kissed her temple and murmured, "I love you."

~~O~~

When the guards came to take Natasha away again, Steve knew he had to fight back. The man who claimed to be someone he wasn't had joined the guards just as he always had, so superior and self-righteous, certain that he'd break through her training and get at the very core of her being.

Their usual methods weren't working and Steve got the idea that they'd try something different this time. Something she wasn't expecting that would finally force her to give them what they wanted. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he did.

He threw himself down on the bed, hands laced over his stomach and thumbs rolling first in one direction then the other, not out of boredom or monotony, but instead of pacing. Wherever he was, the only sounds he heard were when someone unlocked the door at the end of the hall. The other cells were dark and probably empty because the guards had never gone beyond this one whether with food or to take and bring Natasha back. When he felt a vibration in the bedframe, it got his attention.

Rolling to his feet, Steve went to the bars, pressing his face between two so that he could look to the left and right. The vibrations got stronger and now he could hear them. If he didn't know better, he'd think it was…

The metal door groaned from the strain of something pushing against it from the other side. It broke loose, flying to the far end, crashing into the wall, the hinges still smoking. And into that smoke strode one of the best sights Steve had ever seen.

Stark's Iron Man visor retracted, his scowl now in full view. "Ready to blow this popsicle stand, Cap?"

"Yes."

The visor dropped over Stark's face as he raised his right hand. "Stand back." Going to the far corner of his cell, Steve turned his back and closed his eyes. Still he could see the bright light of the suit's repulsor as it blew the door off. It sailed through the air, hitting the back wall hard enough to leave a dent then fell on the bed. But Steve didn't wait to see it. He was out the door and down the hall right behind Stark. "Where are we?"

"Shakhtinsk, Kazakhstan." The sounds of fighting and gunfire came from all around.

"_How_ did you find us?" Steve scooped up the P-90 from the dead guard at his feet, checking the magazine.

"Banner's girlfriend. Seems she has this thing in her head," Stark waved a hand next to his right ear. "She's some kind of human GPS. Like a bloodhound, but instead of scent, she zeroes in on brainwaves." Nodding as if he understood, Steve headed down the corridor, stopping when Stark grabbed his arm. "Whoa! Where you headed, big fella?"

"To rescue my wife."

"Do you even know where she _is?_"

That put a damper on his enthusiasm. "No. How do we find her?"

"JARVIS?"

Steve's extraordinary hearing easily picked up the AI's voice. "_Scanning now, sir. According to Ms. Pascale, Agent Romanoff is one hundred yards from your current location. Take the left corridor, third right door._"

Heading in that direction, Steve asked, "Where's Thor?"

"He and Hawkeye are keeping the yokels busy while we pull off a daring rescue."

"Hawkeye's here?"

Though he couldn't shrug in the suit, Steve still felt it in Stark's voice. "He just needed the right motivation to come back."

"Natasha."

"Don't sell yourself short, Cap. No one messes with family."

They stopped in front of the door JARVIS indicated, Stark touched the arm of his suit activating the welder. Within seconds, he'd cut through the locks and hinges. Digging his fingers into the edges, he yanked the door out of its frame and tossed it aside. "Hi, honey. I'm home."

Steve looked around him in dismay. The entire room was red. Floor, ceiling, walls. Even the door had been red on the inside. Natasha had told him what she could remember of her time with 2R. In her sleep, she sometimes mumbled about a room that had been painted a sickly blood red, begging not to be taken there again. He'd always thought it had been a metaphor for the things that had been done to her, but apparently it wasn't. It was also why she abhorred the color red. She'd even dyed her hair brown more than once, but something in the way she'd been enhanced had kept the color from staying longer than a few days.

In the middle of the room, Natasha lay stripped naked, her clothes in rags on the floor, having been cut from her body. Her wrists and ankles were encased in metal shackles. Steve set the weapon aside, shrugged out of his button front shirt and draped it over her while Stark used the welder to remove the locks on the shackles. Blood had pooled under her hands where the metal had dug into her flesh and still tacky meaning it hadn't been there long.

Sliding one arm under her knees and the other around her shoulders, Steve gently lifted Natasha against his chest and headed for freedom with Stark leading the way. He heard the distinctive clang of Thor's hammer and the familiar _pffft!_ of arrows sinking into flesh telling him that the Asgardian and Clint were nearby.

Looking at the instruments of torture displayed on the walls and tables sickened him to the point he felt he would vomit. But he suppressed the urge, helped by the fact that Natasha was stirring. She lifted her chin from her chest and the first thing she saw was the red and gold of Stark's Iron Man suit. "I hate red," was all she said before her head dropped down again, mumbling through her name, rank and serial number over and over.

They encountered little resistance until they neared the elevators, but Stark took care of it in an almost offhanded manner. From the other side, Clint and Thor joined them, Clint turning at the last second to take out the final fragment of resistance.

Behind Clint, five young girls huddled in a corner out of the line of fire. Obviously new subjects for the man calling himself Ivan Petrovitch, rescued by Clint and Thor. They looked relatively unharmed, except for being snatched from their families. Clint crouched in front of them whispering words of comfort.

~~O~~

To Clint's immense relief, he saw Rogers and Stark coming, and they had Natasha. She was dirty, bruised and bloody, but at least she was alive.

"Barton, she's saying something, but it's in Russian."

Brushing the hair from her face, Clint leaned close, his voice a whisper. "Nat? It's Clint. You're gonna be okay. Banner's waiting at the transport and we'll get you and the girls to the hospital very soon. What's that?" Clint surprised Steve when he actually laughed out loud.

Stark retracted his faceplate. "What she say?"

"She said, 'What took you so long, a******?'"

~~O~~

"You're gonna have to put her down so I can work, Steve," Bruce told Rogers when he refused to relinquish Natasha to his care. The girls had been given a cursory exam and were fine except for having been taken from their homes and held against their will. The youngest girl, Svetlana, looked sadder than the others, and Bruce figured she'd probably lost her family recently.

"Okay, but watch her feet. She doesn't like having them touched."

Chuckling, Bruce knelt down beside the stretcher lashed to the deck in the back of the quinjet. "I figured that out after she told me to get my ****ing hands off her feet and I wasn't even near them. She'll have to let someone touch them at some point because those cuts will become infected if they aren't treated."

"I'll do it. Just tell me what to do."

Bruce passed the super-soldier a box of soft cotton squares, antiseptic cleanser and a small basin. "Let me give her a sedative first."

"You sure that's wise? It might just piss her off."

After administering the sedative, Bruce gently cleaned the cuts on her face and scalp, getting as much of the blood as he could and using Dermabond to seal the wounds. Taking her left then right hand from under the blanket, he cleaned, treated and bandaged around her wrists then moved onto the cuts on her arms. As Steve took care of her feet, her toes curled as she tried to pull away, again mumbling in Russian.

When Bruce finished, Steve sat at Natasha's side stroking her head and singing a Russian lullaby. His accent and pronunciation made Clint snicker. The glare Steve shot at the archer wasn't ignored. "Want some help, Cap?"

"Yeah. It's the only one I sorta know."

Clint began singing in a clear, strong voice, surprising his co-pilot who glanced at the archer then back to his controls without saying a word. From where he sat next to his patient, Bruce said, "How about in English so the rest of us can enjoy it?"

Nodding, Clint slipped smoothly from Russian into English, glancing at the little girl with the same name as the one in the lullaby.

_Lunar glade so pretty,__  
__Night like this is daylight…__  
__Sleep my sweet Svetlana,__  
__Sleep as once before:__  
__In the corner pillows__  
__Place your cheek softly…__  
__Stars like little freckles,__  
__Peacefully shine down.__  
__Lunar garden leaves fall__  
__Gentle whispers calling.__  
__Soon the day will come here,__  
__Promises behold.__  
__Candles burning low,__  
__Melting to the ground…__  
__Sleep my heart of hearts,__  
__Dreams at night still glow.__  
__Sleep my sweet Svetlana,__  
__Sleep as once before_.

Svetlana was fascinated by what Bruce was doing, kneeling next to Natasha and asking one question after the other in halting English the doctor answered with patience and serenity, not once showing annoyance at her constant chatter. When they reached the helicarrier, Natasha was still asleep, Svetlana's head pillowed on her arms on the edge of the stretcher watching her face.

~~O~~

Natasha was kept in the med bay for three days, and only released because she'd threatened the doctors if they didn't let her leave. Steve had stayed on the helicarrier with her until then and Clint had come and gone checking up on her.

During those days, he'd spent a great deal of time in with the director and not just because Fury was his father-in-law. It seemed that he was rethinking his resignation and was in the process of negotiating a way to come back, at least part time.

The worst part of the last three days was that Natasha had been unable to walk or even bear having slippers on her feet. Now, she pushed through the pain as she walked unaided from the med bay, across the deck and onto the quinjet that would take her home.

Clint and Naomi insisted that she stay with them while she recuperated because Steve had been assigned a protection detail. The president of the United States was taking a friendship tour of Europe and Asia and wanted a high profile escort at his side, requesting Captain America himself. The WSC was inclined to grant him this request even after, as mayor of New York, he'd essentially blamed the invasion on the Avengers. It was done to appease the new president and to show that there were no hard feelings between them. Natasha knew otherwise, but just smiled and accepted the inevitable.

Steve tried to carry her to the second floor, but she insisted on walking. The thick, cushiony soles of the slippers she wore helped with the pain, which wasn't nearly as bad as it had been when she'd first been found in the Red Room.

She still hated the color red, but her experience had taught her to just let it go and worry about more important things. Like Svetlana. The little girl had taken to her in the quinjet and med bay, crying when she'd been returned to the orphanage in Russia. It made her think hard about the choices she'd made in her life and the choices that had been made _for_ her.

Sitting on the back patio, Natasha heard the whoosh of Stark's Iron Man suit as he circled the yard and came in for a landing. The face plate retracted as he came up the stairs to her side. He'd repainted his suit, replacing the red with black. "Stark."

"Widow." He turned in a circle, arms out to the side showing off his new look. "How d'you like the new and improved Iron Man?"

She looked him over with a critical eye. "New, but not improved. Why'd you change it?"

"You don't like red, and if we're going to continue to work together, you can't be distracted."

Chuckling, she poured him a glass of iced tea from the pitcher at her left hand. "Black doesn't suit you. Go back to the red."

"That's an easy fix. JARVIS?"

The AI's long-suffering voice came from inside Stark's helmet. "_As you wish, sir._" Moments later, the suit was back to its original color.

"Better?"

"Much." She kept her gaze fixed on his. "Thank you."

Sitting in the suit was difficult, so Stark lounged against the railing across from Natasha. "For?"

"The rescue."

"All in a day's work. I mean that literally, 'cause I do the rescue thing almost every day. Old ladies, trains, bridges, the occasional flash flood or avalanche, cats in trees. Not my favorite, by the way. I still have a scar on my…"

The back door opened and Naomi came out carrying her daughter. "Look, Hannah."

Hannah reached out for Stark and he took her. He didn't like to be handed things, but he always made an exception for Hannah. "Hey, kid. Wanna go for a ride with your Uncle Tony?"

"No!" The word burst out of Naomi, as she reached for her child. "You are _not_ taking…"

"_Relax_. I meant in the Maserati. Pepper and I'll be here for the barbeque on the Fourth. We can do it then, _if_ Legolas agrees too of course."

Naomi rolled her eyes, an indulgent and loving smile coming to her lips. "Clint will probably want to go along, maybe even drive."

"I've _seen_ his driving. _Not_ gonna happen." Handing Hannah back to her mother, Stark finished off the tea and set the empty glass next to Natasha, his faceplate moving into place. "Gotta go. Ladies." He blasted into the sky a moment later to Hannah's immense delight. She loved it when the Avengers visited though she was always wound up afterwards.

"Natasha, I hate to ask this, but would you watch Hannah for me just for an hour or so? I have to go out and don't want to drag her along."

The tiniest sliver of panic wiggled inside of Natasha, but she just smiled. "Of course."

Naomi passed the little girl over and she went readily into Natasha's arms. "Food and bottles in the 'fridge. Diapers, clothes and toys in the nursery. Thanks." The psychologist went back inside and a few minutes later, the front door slammed followed by a car starting up.

Hannah was playing with Natasha's hair seemingly fascinated with the color and texture. "Well, it's just you and me, _Malyutka._ What should we do?"

The little girl waved at the swing in the yard so Natasha carried her over and sat in the swing, using her foot to get it started. At some point, Clint had installed a device that once started, the swing kept going at a slow and easy pace until you stopped it.

Soon, Hannah was asleep in her lap and Natasha was headed the same way. Getting to her feet, she made her way to the nursery, but when she tried to lay the girl in her crib, she began to fuss so Natasha lay down on the small bed in the corner with Hannah between her and the wall, one hand on the girl so she would know she was safe and soon they were both asleep.

~~O~~

As soon as Naomi pulled out of the drive, she made a call. "Hi, it's me…it's done…I'm headed for my appointment and when I get there, naturally the doctor will have been called out on an emergency so I'll be gone longer than expected…Not sure. Manicure and pedicure…We'll see if this works. Just don't tell her it was _my_ idea…yes, I'm _sure_ she'll make a great mother…I'm a _psychologist_, that's how…Love you too, honey."

She ended the call, a self-satisfied smile on her beautiful face as she hummed along with the radio on her to way to her favorite salon, Dyed and Gone to Heaven.

**July 4****th**

The back yard of the Barton home was a mass of people swimming, playing games and just plain running around. Under the patio out of the sun sat Pepper, who was experiencing morning sickness that lasted all day, Alston's wife, Sarah, Maria Hill with baby RJ sleeping, Hannah, also sleeping, Martha Rogers, Gina and Fury.

Naomi watched her parents sitting side by side looking so in love that tears threatened. It had taken close to forty years, but they'd finally tied the knot, and couldn't be happier.

Alston, Kripke, Castle, Beckett and Jane were doing the cooking commanded by Naomi who gave orders like a general and was obeyed just as quickly. Tables laden with food squatted in the area shaded by a small grove of trees. Tea, lemonade, beer, soft drinks, water and more were available to quench the thirsts of their guests.

A group played in the pool, most of them kids, watched over by Clint, Stark, who had finally gotten over his water phobia, Bruce and Genevieve. Steve would no doubt want to get in on that fun when he and Natasha finally arrived. Naomi was anxious to see her friends because they'd been out of the country for the last three weeks on vacation. Or so they said. Secretly, she thought they'd taken off on a belated honeymoon once Natasha's wounds had healed.

She checked that the food was still covered, dodging a volleyball that hit the net and rolling her eyes at her husband who was now in the pool with Stark growling and snarling and chasing the kids making them scream in pretend terror.

Off to one side were the teen and pre-teen girls who were being watched by the teen and pre-teen boys, all pretending not to notice the others were even there. Though she envied them their youth and the fact that their lives were just starting, she wouldn't have wanted to go back to that time.

Waving to get Clint's attention, she crouched next to the pool as he swam to the side, resting his folded arms on the edge. "Steve just called. He and Natasha are on their way and they're bringing a surprise. Wants us to get everyone to the tables so they can make some big announcement."

"You got it." Clint faced the water and whistled, catching the attention of the other adults while the kids played on. "Gotta round up the rug rats. It's time to eat."

"Yeah? Says who?" Stark asked.

"Generalissimo Barton." Clint pointed at Naomi who just shook her head and laughed as she got to her feet. With Clint, Stark, Thor and Fury doing the herding, eventually everyone was seated at a table with food and drink in front of them.

As if it had been planned, Steve let himself in the side gate locating Clint helping Naomi put Hannah in a highchair. He whispered to his hosts, both hiding startled looks by the time they faced their guests.

~~O~~

Clint jumped up on a stool, whistling to get everyone's attention and eventually it quieted down enough for him to be heard. "Thanks for coming to the first annual Barton Family Barbecue." He waited out the applause. "There's plenty to eat and drink, so don't be shy. The reason I'm up here is our good friends, Steve Rogers and his wife, Natasha Romanoff have brought a surprise. Cap?"

Steve nodded then trotted over to the gate, motioning to someone on the other side. Everyone craned their necks trying to see and when they did, jaws dropped so fast that Clint could almost hear them. And why not? Natasha had come into the yard holding the hand of a girl no more than six with dark hair and eyes staring curiously around her at the faces of so many strangers.

Crouching in front of the girl, Steve spoke softly to her. She nodded and smiled when he picked her up and turned to face his family and friends. "Everyone, this is Svetlana. Our daughter. Please come around and say hello."

The girl waved to the crowd when Natasha prompted her then asked to get down. Natasha and Steve took seats on either side of Svetlana at the table with Naomi while Fury carried over plates with burgers and buns. Naomi brought them each a drink while Clint offered potato salad, baked beans, deviled eggs and a host of other foods, most of which Svetlana tried after giving them a curious sniff.

It wasn't necessary to teach her English as that had been done at the facility where they'd found her and the other girls. Languages were easier to learn at an early age, and the Petrovitch imposter, now doing life in a Kazakhstan maximum security prison, had known this though he hadn't yet begun their physical and mental enhancements. At least the girl would have a chance at the kind of normal life that had been stolen from Natasha.

As Clint roamed from table to table making sure everyone had been served, he stopped to talk to the new addition to his best friend's family, speaking to her in Russian. "Hello, Svetlana. My name is Clint." Still shy she smiled at him, but didn't speak. "You can call me Uncle Clint, if you like."

Again she smiled and tugged on Natasha's sleeve, motioning her close to whisper in her ear. Clint's hearing, better than most, easily picked up the girl's sweet voice. "Mama, _that's_ Hawkeye!"

Clint saw a momentary flash of panic at being called "mama", but Natasha hid it well. "Yes, it is." Still the girl hesitated. "Go ahead. He won't hurt you."

"I know. He _saved_ me."

Natasha pulled the girl close to her side. "He saved me too. Lots of times."

Svetlana stared at Clint with wide and very curious eyes, nodding once as if she'd made a decision. "Uncle Hawkeye, would you play with me?"

Touched by the timid question and the total trust she was showing him by asking, Clint smiled back. "Of course."

She climbed out from between her parents putting her arms out to be picked up. He cuddled her close, and headed for the other kids her age running around chasing a Frisbee. He put her down, explained the basics of throwing the disc then gathered the kids around to teach them a few words in Russian. After a few minutes, the kids begged him to do some tricks for them and he obliged, using his circus skills to entertain them. Bit by bit, the rest of the group gathered around to watch, cheering and applauding when he concluded each successful maneuver.

After the fireworks in celebration of Independence Day, Fury gathered everyone around for his own announcement. "First let's thank Clint and Naomi for the great party. I'm sure we all had fun as well as a few surprises." Cheers and whistles went up from the crowd. He waved a hand to quiet them and they settled down. "Though the announcement will be made within the next few days, I wanted to give everyone a heads up so it won't be a total shock. As of August first, I will stepping down as the director of SHIELD." A collective gasp and murmurs of surprise went through the SHIELD operatives. "As of that date, I will be taking a seat on the World Security Council. I've thought long and hard about who to name as my successor. It was a difficult decision, and in the end, it came down to two candidates with the right qualifications. But my choice was clear. The new director of SHIELD will be…Natasha Romanoff."

Stunned, Natasha handed Svetlana to Steve and came forward to shake his hand and accept the position. Clint hugged his best friend, planting a kiss on her cheek and wishing her the best.

~~O~~

Sitting in the shade of the patio, Natasha watched her husband and child playing with the others, reflecting on how incredibly content she felt at this moment. At no time in her life did she ever expect to find the sort of love that she'd discovered with this group of friends who were like family.

A bright purple Frisbee sailed through the air to land at her feet. She picked it up and threw it back, Steve catching it by jumping into the air. He motioned for her to join them, and with a dazzling smile, she did realizing that she now had it all. Family, friends, a job she was good at…and most of all, love.

**End**

**A/N:** _The __Hussar __Ballad_ is a 1962 Soviet musical film by Eldar Ryazanov, filmed on Mosfilm. It is one of the best loved musical comedies in Russia. With most of its dialogue delivered in verse, Ryazanov's script romanticizes the adventures of Nadezhda Durova during the Napoleonic wars. The swift paced, action packed, humor filled adventure is ingeniously mixed with light-hearted acting bravado and memorable operetta pieces. The film's musical score and songs were written by Tikhon Khrennikov. The English translation of the lullaby was done by Sasha Kondrasov.


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